Mihawk's guest
by BlackBarBooks
Summary: Short drabble about Mihawk contemplating Zoro's back. -during the 2 year time skip!-


**-Mihawk's Guests-**

For seven years, Mihawk had eaten alone. Spent his evenings alone. He never spoke to anyone while on his island.

He'd been living alone on an entire island.

-minus those humandrills, but they just trembled and ran, so they don't count as conversation.

but now.

Mihawk sipped his wine glass, watching Roronoa Zoro swat away the pink haired girl who was trying to wrap him in more band aid. He had guests. for the first time in his life, Mihawk had guests.

Roronoa Zoro. never had Mihawk imagine this handsome young man, would live in his castle and for two years no less. When he had fought him years ago, in the east blue, he had been surprised at how well he remembered the name. He never committed the names of weaklings to his memory.

But the name of promising, handsome young men: he never forgot.

But having that same young man, who he fully believed could be his successor to the title of "The best in the world" Sitting across the table from him, eating his cooking with the appetite of a shark, exhaustively falling asleep in his guestroom. It was too much.

Mihawk wasn't bothered. He enjoyed the company of Zoro. Maybe a little too much. He found himself looking forward to Zoro returning from his fights with the humandrills. His blood ran faster in anticipation when the younger man removed his clothes to clean his fresh wounds.

Like now. Mihawk pretended to read the newspaper as the green haired man pulled his shirt over his shoulders, allowing the pink haired annoyance to clean his fresh wounds.

Yellow eyes travelled up the tan body, and rested on Zoro's back. His world famous eyes stilled, still no wounds. A small relaxation occurred in Mihawk's neck muscles. That back, it had to remain unscarred.

He wanted to touch it.

Mihawk noticed how the rough texture of the newspaper agitated his fingertips.

He wanted to touch.

The yellow eyes slid up and down the perfectly unmarred back, as if staring hard enough would compensate for not being able to touch it.

"Oi, Hawk-eyes"

Mihawk looked at the back of the green head. The swordsman was still looking away, what could he want?

"Do you Address -me- Roronoa Zoro?"

"Yes. What is so interesting about my back? You keep staring at it. I can feel it."

Incredible. The swordsman could feel his eyes on his back. Time for a lie. He didn't want the truth to make

his newly acquired disciple uncomfortable in his home. "I was checking for injuries"

"I told you. Until the day I take your head and title, I will have no scars on my back."

So that back is reserved for me, and me alone? Mihawk looked down, kept on reading the paper. He wanted to say it, but the risk of the younger man hating him, fearing him or even loosing respect for him as a swordsman held back his tongue.

**Not now. **

**Not tonight.**

**Never.**

Two days later, Mihawk sat in his lounge, sipping his favorite red wine while reading a book. The urgent shrieks and screams of Perona echoed down the hall, rippling the surface of the blood colored liquid in his glass.

"I told you! You'll end up DEAD! It's not even a cut! It's much worse!"

"Be silent! I told you! I'll be fine!"

"FINE? YOU CAN'T BE FINE WITH A DISLOCATED SHOULDER!"

"Just shut up and help me pop it back in!"

"Eww! NO WAY! THAT'S TOTALLY UNCUTE!"

The door of the lounge flew open, Zoro entered the room, blood dripping from his prominent brow and into the carpet.

"Roronoa." Mihawk acknowledged the younger's presence with his name. The name felt good on his tongue. "Your shoulder, it got dislocated?"

"yeah, yeah, I'll just pop it right back in-" Zoro started as he reached up and grabbed his pained shoulder.

"Let me do it."

There was complete silence on the entire island. Perona and Zoro both stared at the man sitting in the massive chair by the window. Not even the tablecloth rustled.

"What?"

"I'll pop it in for you. If you do it wrong, you could do permanent damage to bone and nerve endings."

"…alright." Zoro's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.

**It was now. **

Mihawk slowly stood up, walking casually towards the younger man. "Take off your shirt."

**This night. **

Zoro struggled to get off his shirt, revealing his toned torso and unscathed back. "Just hurry, I have pushups to do."

**This moment.**

Mihawk took his position behind the younger man, feeling Perona's eyes on him as he grabbed Zoro's muscular shoulder decidedly, placing the palm of his other hand flat between Zoro's shoulder blades.

Soft. Mihawk felt the warm muscles ripple under the palm of his hand. Sweat seemed to fill the gaps between his fingers, tanned skin contrasted with his own like black and white. That back; so muscular and tan. Perfectly untouched by battle, it didn't seem to belong to this battle-hardened young man, with his calloused hands and feet, scarred body and rough features.

"Hey, aren't you going to pop it back in?"

Mihawk was brought back to reality with an almost audible snap. "Of course, when you are ready."

"I'm ready already! Just do it!" Mihawk seemed to detect a hint of uncertainty, was his rival maybe uneasy about allowing his back to be turned?

Allowing his hand to slide down the back, Mihawk pulled the shoulder backwards, relocating it with a loud and sickening snap that seemed to fill the room. He felt muscles ripple in his hand, tighten in pain for a split second. He heard teeth grit and breath caught, until the younger swordsman straightened his back, rubbing the sore shoulder.

"It has been relocated, Roronoa Zoro." Mihawk returned to his chair, sitting down casually as he grabbed his book.

"I'd rather get cuts." Zoro breathed in annoyance, turning to the door. "Thanks, gotta' go train now."

Perona followed Zoro out the door, screaming about how he should rest his injured arm.

"if you don't, it'll fall off you idiot!"

"yeah yeah, I'll just do push ups on the other arm then-"

"That's not what I mean!"

Their voices faded down the hallway, leaving the greatest swordsman in the world in silence again.

He looked at his hand. it was still warm. The feeling of that unscathed back, those muscles tensing under the tan skin.

He'd never forget. That back was his, his alone. Until the day Roronoa Zoro would take his head and title, that back was his.

THE END

NO LEMON!?

We can't ALWAYS have sexy time you guys! Besides, I can't write uke!Zoro. I just can't. Not even with Mihawk. Lame, I know. but this is just my limit!

Back to my ZoroSanji ship I guess! Any ideas what I can write about? I'm lacking inspiration!


End file.
